Addiction
by quicksilver-wind
Summary: I have never been addicted to an illegal substance, but I have been addicted to him. A short story about what might have been folded into that hidden pocket of time while Harry was away in book 7.


**A/N: I've always thought that if Draco and Ginny were ever to be together, it would be in that dark time at Hogwarts that Harry was away for. This is how I picture it. No copyright infringement intended. **

I have never been addicted to an illegal substance, and I never hope to be. But I have been in love, the dangerous, addictive kind of love that is impossibly sweet and impossibly painful all at once. The kind of love that you are forever trying to give up, but that you can never seem to let go. I have never been addicted to an illegal substance, but I think that being in love isn't that different after all.

Let me be clear, for those of you who are wondering: I am in love with Harry, but it is not him of whom I speak. Being in love with Harry is all the things little girls dream love will be. Our love is patient, kind, and enduring. It is my safe haven in the storm. Harry is my husband, and happily so. Draco is my drug.

It all started in my sixth year, that dark and horrible year where Voldemort reigned and all hope seemed to drain out of the world. Part of it was the dementors, of course, but another part was the fear that the unthinkable had happened, that we had lost. We kept fighting, of course, but deep inside all of us was a profound seed of fear and despair.

Abandoned by Harry and trapped in the Death Eaters' mockery of Hogwarts, I think I may have felt it the worst. I was virtually alone, out of contact with the rebellion and what victories we had, and inside the heart of Voldemort's power. I slid quickly from tears to reckless disregard for my own safety. My grief soured and turned to anger at the world, at Harry, at myself. And one dark night, I found myself seeking out Draco. I found him sitting in an empty classroom in the dungeons, and I sat down beside him. Somehow, for some unfathomable reason, something ignited between us. When I looked into his eyes I found myself falling. It was always stupidly reckless between us, for both of us.

We lived from moment to moment, heedless of the consequences of our actions. We tore at each other and clutched at each other hard enough to cause pain, to leave marks, but still we held on harder, as if we would never let go. From that first night, I couldn't get enough of him. Our secret liaisons became more frequent and more obvious, and I daresay the professors and other students began to notice. What they made of it, I can't say. We made quite the pair, Draco and I.

My mother had always told me that I'd know love when I felt it, and she was right. From the first moment our eyes met, I was horribly and desperately in love with Draco. I didn't like him, not really, but I didn't need to. Loving him was as inevitable as the rising of the sun, as natural as breathing.

You may think it was one sided, and that he was simply using me. Don't misunderstand, that thought crossed my mind a thousand times in those first few weeks. But Draco was as desperate as I was in his affection. Our sharp edges cut each other. He made rash promises he never intended to keep, and I thoughtlessly accepted them, never bothering to consider what a lifetime of Draco would entail. When we were together, there was no past and no future, no beginning and no end. We were together.

There are two types of love, I think. The love that grows gently and is fulfilling, that makes you better. The type of love that is violent and desperate, that drains you away inside.

Draco was never 'my better half', but I loved him with such ferocity that it was almost hate. It was a fine line we walked, between love and hate. Eventually, I could not imagine life without Draco. I can imagine life without Harry. I would hate it, and it would be so very empty, but I could heal and move forward. Without Draco, I would have become a broken shell of a person. I very nearly did.

I was called home from school over Easter, and being away from him caused me physical pain. When they didn't let me go back, I raged and screamed and fought until I no longer had the strength. No one understood, and I know I must have looked like a madwoman.

During the final battle, I was afraid for Harry, for my family and friends. I wasn't afraid for Draco. His not being alive was not a possibility. He told me once that the whole time he was fighting, he didn't care which side was which, only that I wasn't around.

After the war ended, we tried being together for real. I broke up with Harry, and Draco and I started dating. There has never been any worse relationship than ours. We fought all the time, and made up furiously. We screamed at each other in the street and pushed each other. We ate away at each other until neither one of us had anything left of ourselves to be proud of, and then on night when I was crying at Mum's, everything changed.

"Ginny," she said, "I hate to see you like this. Aren't you tired of all this fighting?"

Tired. Yes, I was tired. I was exhausted just being with Draco. Being with him consumed every ounce of my being and left not a drop for anything else. I was tired.

I told him so the next morning, and for once, we were frankly honest with each other.

"Me too, Ginny," he said when I told him, falling into a chair with his head in his hands.

We broke it off then, and I tried my hardest to not see him again. Somehow, though, we always found our way back. Even after I started dating Harry again, even after we were engaged, I always found myself furiously tearing at Draco's clothes in the middle of the night when no one knew where I was.

In the end, it was Draco who ended things. His girlfriend had just broken up with him because of me, and he was finished. He packed his things and moved to America, leaving only a brief note behind.

_Ginny – _

_Being with you leaves none of me for anything else. You leave no space in my heart or my mind to care about anything, and it is exhausting. I haven't the strength to stay away from you in person, so I'm leaving and going where I can't get back to you. _

_Forget me, and try to be happy. It's what I'll be doing._

_Love, _

_Draco_

I confessed it all to Harry that night, and he forgave me even though he was furious. Without Draco there, there was space in my heart to find new loves, and love for Harry grew to be strong and enduring. I even learned to love the self that I had neglected for Draco. When I saw him all those years later at Platform 9 ¾, dropping Scorpius off at the train, it was only a twinge of the old yearning, and I was able to walk away.

I love Harry. I love my family and my children. But my love for Draco was the purest love that I have ever experienced. It consumed the whole of my self. Loving him hurt, every second of it, but it was a clean and bright hurt that I cannot bring myself to regret. Love like that comes once in a lifetime. It isn't meant for marriage and mortgages and daycare and coaching children's quidditch. I have never been addicted to illegal drugs, but I have been addicted to him.


End file.
